


The Other Side

by Pretendthisisfiction (HelloIWriteFanfic)



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fabulous Killjoys Fusion, Betrayal, Everybody Is Cooler Than They Are IRL, Falling In Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Muteness, Nightmares, PTSD, Party Poison Is A Sad Mom, Plot Twists, Rebellion, Recovery, Ryan Becomes A Killjoy, Ryan Get's Revenge, Self Confidence Issues, Spencer/Ryan Friendship FUELS ME, Trust Issues, Zone Vocab, feminine ryan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloIWriteFanfic/pseuds/Pretendthisisfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kid was floral, that's for sure. A mess of wind-swept brown hair was kept in two small buns held loosely with black ribbon behind his ears and he was still dressed in the white clothes of the city, despite obviously having not been there in a while. The clothes were torn and splattered in equal parts blood, paint, and mechanical oil, not to mention the bold word that had been hastily whipstitiched into the back of the shiny white jacket.</p>
<p> "We must reinvent love", it said. </p>
<p>Killjoys, and other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side

Party Poison's hair curled towards his jaw in thin strands, broken and split at the end from having been singed off by a stray phaserbeam but he didn't seem to be paying any attention to it. His hazel eyes, hidden under thick smears of electric-pink eye paint, were focused on the kid in front of him.

He hadn't said a word yet, had simply stumbled into the diner like it was easy, like the fab four's security wasn't even there, before he collapsed onto the sandy floor in a pool of tattered clothes and pale limbs. 

The kid was floral, that's for sure. A mess of wind-swept brown hair was kept in two small buns held loosely with black ribbon behind his ears and he was still dressed in the white clothes of the city, despite obviously having not been there in a while. The clothes were torn and splattered in equal parts blood, paint, and mechanical oil, not to mention the bold word that had been hastily whipstitiched into the back of the shiny white jacket.

"We must reinvent love", it said. Which wasn't a battle cry that Party had heard yet in the zones. Mostly none of them were concerned for love. It wasn't an urgent need, and they craved freedom and expression more than a hand to hold. But maybe love wasn't meant in the traditional sense here. 

Ghoul didn't trust the kid, of course. 

"We should take him out into the Zones while he's still out, before this becomes a problem." He said in his gruff voice that still carried his thick Jersey accent whilst gesturing a hand towards to curled up form of the boy. Worry lines were knotted between his eyebrows and he didn't look away from the kid's resting body once while he was speaking, dead-set on not missing anything if he moves the wrong way. "Look at him, Ghoul." Party replied, raising an eyebrow at his companion as he gestured to the kid himself. "He doesn't have a phaser, and he's too small to even hurt Cherri." 

"That doesn't mean anything and you know it, Party." Ghoul said as he crouched down to prod at the tool belt slung across the kid's thin hips. Pulling out various wrenches and small, silver globes that looked like they had come partly from an auto-unit and partly from space. Even Party would admit that those were slightly odd. "He could have a tracker, or a bomb, or a spy." Ghoul continued as he wedged his fingernail between the rim around the center of one of the globes. Prying at the two parts with a short grunt before realizing that the device must've been coded in some way. Probably BLI tech that had been jacked by some low-roller in another zone. "We should speak to him before we do anything, even if it's at phaserpoint, we should give him a chance." Party said quietly as he ran his calloused fingertips gingerly over a thin white scar that ran around the circumference of the boy's neck. 

"I know you miss him, Party. But you can't replace Kobra." Ghoul said, his voice gentle now is he risked a glance towards the other Killjoy who was subsequently avoiding his gaze with steady determination. 

It had been three months since Party and Ghoul had careened away from a scene straight out of Costa Rica out in the middle zones. They had been on a supply run and suddenly they were ambushed. Hordes of Dracs and Sand-Sweepers swooping in at ever turn. Party had been away from the group, looking under the hood of an abandoned van in hopes for finding a few useful parts. He didn't even hear what was happening until Jet had yelled, long and loud to alert the group. Cherri was with them but they disappeared into the desert as soon has they had seen the hordes coming, ever the self-preservative. Party had been able to see Jet tuck Kobra against his chest in time to sweep the kid away from a phaserbeam and for a second he had hoped that they'd be fine, that they'd go back to the diner and be able to bandage up and laugh it off and everything would be milkshake. But then the Exterminator had shown up and Party can still feel the moment his heart dropped. The man had smiled at Party as he fired the white blast to his brother's back and then to Jet's temple. Party doesn't remember much after that, but he does know that his throat was sandpaper for days after from screaming.

Ghoul assumes that Party is just desperate to fill in the empty space of the diner. But Party isn't naive, he knows better than to trust any little half-baked phaser-baby that shows up along the road. But this kid hadn't come in with guns blaring and a war-cry on his tongue with hopes of becoming the next Killjoy leader. He was hurt, and part of the movement that him and Ghoul led was in the belief of protecting the people who couldn't protect themselves. 

"I'm not tryin' at anything, Ghoul." He says, almost with a bite, just as a warning to Ghoul that he isn't going to be swayed on this. "I'm just not gonna dump a seventeen-year-old into the desert because of what "might" happen. Doing stuff like that is for people who are scared, and we aren't afraid, right?" He tilts his chin up defiantly towards Ghoul, revealing the Kobra-red paint that had been swiped under his jaw as he meets his friend's whisky eyes. Ghoul stares back for a second before nodding and standing up. He hands Party his Phaser after clicking the safety off with a mumbled "Just in case." Before he leaves the two of them alone whilst he goes out to screw with the car again. It's what Ghoul does when he's frustrated, apparently. 

Party leans himself back against the dirt-scuffed mint wall of the diners main room, the phaser set neatly in his lap and his eyes trained on the kid as he waits. The used to have injections to use when they needed to wake people up, but those were long-sense gone and would've been too precious to use in this situation anyway. 

He doesn't have to wait too long before he can see the faint twitch of movement behind the kid's eyelids. Arms and legs shifting slightly as a small sigh escapes the boys sun-chapped lips. Part almost thinks that the boy is going to fall unconscious again until the kid's eyes open wide. Huge and hazel like a deer at the end of a Missile-Blowers rifle whilst his pale hands instantly reached for his belt. His breathing obviously speeding up as he realized that the contents of the belt wasn't tucked into their usual places.

"You can have the stuff as soon as we know that you're not a weapon." Party says, keeping his voice low, but assertive as he stays in his position at the wall. The kid flinches at his voice, before scrambling up onto his spindly legs and beginning to stumble backwards so as to not turn his back to Poison. 

"C'mon kid, I'm not gonna phase you or anything. Not unless you're BLI. Just tell me why you're in the Zones, yeah?" Party says as he stands up himself. He's not much taller than the kid, but he's definitely broader and the boy practically looks like a ghost in comparison.

The kid looks almost pleading for a second. Eyes going wide again as one of his long arms wraps around his waist defensively. It's then that Party realizes that that the boy was shaking. He was about to point it out and recommend that the boy sit back down but the kid stopped him by raising his pointer finger to his throat, tapping the skin twice gently as his eyes met Poison's directly with a steel that indicated exactly what he meant. 

"You can't speak?" Poison asked as he stepped closer to the boy. Appraising the thin scar around the kid's throat with a newfound meeting as the kid nodded slowly. "BLI?" Poison continued and was of course met with another nod. This was exactly the type of thing BLI would do. Taking away the senses used by the person to cause rebellion. Poison had heard ghost-trails of BLI taking the eyes of spies and the touch of the motor-babies who got caught. 

"Ghoul!" Poison hollered loudly towards the yard. Surprising the kid enough with the noise to cause him to flinch backwards. Stumbling over his feet like he had just grown into them. He was a proper floral, a city-kid who would never survive in the Zones, especially seeing as he didn't have a voice. Some punk would think he was being coy if he didn't talk to them and would phase him out just out of spite. Ghoul never really had a soft spot for the lost kids who were occasionally found out in the city. Lost and alone after making a too-quick decision to escape BLI without the proper precautions but Poison would convince his commander to let them help out this newbie for at least a while. Long enough to get the kid on his own two feet. Maybe take him into Bat City to be a runner. Something safer than trying to be some fake-out killjoy with no real direction. 

Ghoul walked in with his phaser drawn. Appraising the situation with raised eyebrows and obvious apprehension drawn across his heavily-lined features before he saw that the kid was posing no real threat and he lowered his weapon and took his place beside the doorway. Subconsciously (Or consciously) blocking the exit just in case something funny went down. "So, who are you?" Ghoul says stiffly, his arms crossed over his chest with his sleeves rolled up to reveal the array of colorful tattoos covering his skin. Poison followed the kid's gaze as his eyes followed the sight. It was probably the first time he'd ever seen tattoos as the weren't allowed in BLI and if he'd met other Killjoys, they would've helped him by now. 

"He's mute, Ghoul." Poison stepped in and the kid nodded sullenly again. His thin shoulders dropping slightly as his eyes fell to the dust-covered diner floor. "BLI got to him and he probably ditched the city as soon as he could after that, right?" Gerard asked as he looked at the kid again and was met with a nod. 

"You left the city by yourself?" Ghoul asked, almost sounding impressed as he leaned back against the door. The kid's posture stiffened and Poison could see his nails dig into the dirt-covered palms of his hands as if to keep himself steady before he shook his head sadly. 

Pity wasn't common in the zones. Empathy and kindness were, but pity got you nowhere. But Poison couldn't help but feel his heart fall a little as he saw the kids whole being fall like that. The idea of leaving the city with your friends in hopes to start a new life as fabulous Killjoys and then only to be met with desert and death until you were the only one left...It wasn't how you were supposed to start your time out here. Poison had at least had the help of Dr. D when he had first escaped the city. 

"We can let you stay here for a little while." Ghoul spoke up, being surprisingly generous without Poison's prompting. It was always surprising what made Ghoul soften up. Sometimes Poison wished that he could understand the other man better, but that would ruin the fun. "You can stay here, and we'll help you find a crew or a job, but you'll have to figure out how to handle yourself better. There isn't always gonna be a convenient diner out in the zones to save you from heatstroke next time." Ghoul finishes and the kid's eyes widen before he begins to nod eagerly, as if surprised by the kindness. 

"We have a run tomorrow." Ghoul continues as he points a dirty finger towards the Trans AM outside. "We'll take you along and you can try and find some clothes that aren't a signal flag to BLI. Wearing your old city outfit is totally rookie, too." Ghoul smirks and gestures towards the kids loose-fitting white pants and jacket. "I like the back of the jacket though. Reinvent love? Sounds like something the pistol-kids would like." Ghoul finishes before grabbing a can of power-pup from the box kept under the counter and turning towards the door again. "I'm taking first watch, Poison." He called over his shoulder.

Poison doesn't miss it when the kid's eyes widen as Ghoul says his name. Realization apparently kicking in and Poison has to admit that he's surprised it hadn't happened earlier. His face was plastered all over the city on wanted pictures. But he probably looks a lot dirtier now than he did now. He's not going to deny the fact that he has a reputation though, and this little-zone baby looks as if he was in the midst of a heart attack upon the realization that he had just entered the home of a fourth of the Fab Four. 

"We can't really do anything for your heatstroke." Party says, choosing to ignore the kid's reaction as he moves behind the counter and grabs one of the plastic water bottles that Jet had found ages ago. "This well help though. Enjoy it, zone-baby. We don't drink that stuff often." He hands the kid the drink and watches as the kid bites his lip as if he might cry at the sight of it. He had probably thought that he was gonna die out in the zones from dehydration, so Party can't blame him. He does have to stop the kid from chugging the whole thing as soon as he manages to open it though. "You'll end up throwing it all back up if you do it that way." He says as he tilts the bottle away from the kids chapped lips, ignoring the tiny vibrating noise of protest that escapes the newbie. 

"You'll have to go acoustic tomorrow on the run." Poison speaks up again as he began to pull out a small cot for the kid. One of the ones that Cherri used to use when he stayed with them until him and Kobra began to share a bed. "We don't have spare phasers, but we have guns n' old that old crap. Ghoul will give you one in the morning." He turned to face the kid again and is met with the boy raising one of the silver orbs to Poison's vision as the kid shakes his head. Moving his arm as if to fire the orb instead. "That's a weapon?" Poison asks with an eyebrow raised towards the small device. The kid nods excitedly in reply though before tucking the tool back into the worn-black belt around his hips. "Just don't ghost us with it, and you can use whatever you want." Party says with a shake of his own head before pointing towards the cot. "Sleep here tonight, okay?" He says and the kid nods with the tiniest hint of a grateful smile. 

"Night, zone-baby." Poison mutters before flicking of the electro-lantern that Cherri had given them after one of his Bat City adventures and exiting to diner to leave the kid to fall asleep. 

Ghoul is sat on top of the Trans AM'S bonnet with his bright green phaser in his lap and his expression schooled into a steady line. He has his black hair tucked behind his ears but the desert wind has swept a few strand into his eyes. Party pushes them away gingerly as soon as he's pulled himself up next to his companion. The metal beneath them still burning slightly from sitting in the sun despite it being dark out now. Things never really cooled off here, but that was fine. 

"You can't get invested in him, Poison." Ghoul mumbles from beside him as the other man's bare arm brushes against his blue leather-clad one. A small sigh escapes Poison and he shakes his head till his own bright cherry hair falls to cover his expression. He isn't fooling anybody, but at least he can pretend he is. "I'm not, Ghoul. I know he isn't them. I just wanna do something good." He says as he rest his head against Ghoul's shoulder and the man hums in response. 

Party hasn't been able to ever really put a name onto the relationship between himself and Fun Ghoul. He knows that he should't worry too much about it, and that to Ghoul, it was probably just desert comfort. The loneliness of the void in front of them sometimes got too much, and on those nights they would find each other. Party is blunt though, and he isn't going to lie to himself and say that he had never fantasized about it one day being more. Ghoul wraps his muscled arm around Party's waist and pulls him closer so that he can tuck his head under Ghoul's jaw as if cocooned in the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat. He can imagine it best in moments like this, when everything is calm.

"You're already doing good, Poison. That's why we're out there. Keep the faith, baby." Ghoul says as he fixes his eyes up onto the clear, velvet-black sky. Out here, pollution hadn't affected the view, and the stars are like spotlights sprawled as far as he can see. 

Inside, Ryan is curled up on his cot. One of the silver orbs held tightly in his hand the way he had learned to keep them when he rested just in case. The diner is relatively cool and the water had given more relief than could be imagined. It was all surreal, and the past month seemed like a blur. Barely-there swirls of brown eyes and crystal-blue laser-phasers. Finding two of the Fab Four by coincidence too? Maybe things were beginning to look up. 

He tried not to think about what was to come too much is he laid tightly on the floor. His back to the door so that if Poison or Ghoul walked in they'd think he was sleeping. He didn't sleep much anymore due to the nightmares that came after...He couldn't even say his name. Ryan felt terrifically lost, but at least there was a spark of hope. He wasn't going to become rose-dust lost in the desert just yet.

Soon, he may even find himself a name. 

Fun Ghoul walked in eventually. Probably leaving Poison outside to continue the watch until morning. His heavy footfalls didn't even stall as he walked towards one of the other rooms hidden towards the back of the diner so Ryan assumed that he either didn't care or assumed that Ryan was really asleep. He didn't want to be suspicious to them at all. He wasn't hiding anything, but he wouldn't put it past them to be paranoid, and now he couldn't even explain himself if he did something that looked suspicious. 

He stayed like that till morning, but luckily the Killjoys weren't prone to sleeping in, so Ryan was able to get up as soon as the sun broke over the desert. Soaking everything in warm light that would turn razor-hot in the hours to come. 

"You're too small for any of our clothes." Poison had muttered apologetically as he glanced over Ryan's appearance. He was worried about a Killjoy seeing them and phasing Ryan as soon as they saw the flash of white that Ryan was dressed in. Ghoul had said something about using some of Kobra's things and Ryan's ears had perked at the sound of another name he recognized, but Poison's icy glare that he sent towards Ghoul was indication enough that that plan was off the table. 

Ghoul handed Ryan a small, battered pistol. Kind of like the ones that BLI officers wore on their thigh holsters for emergency use if their phasers went out and on closer inspection, Ryan realized that that was exactly what it was. It was still odd, seeing BLI as the enemy so publicly displayed. Painting over and using the weapons of the officers after killing them with no regret. No that Ryan sided with BLI, but still. Such blatant violence seemed unnatural to him after spending the past seventeen years in the sterile environment of the city.

Brendon had embraced the heavy-metal lifestyle as soon as they took their first step out of the city. He had carried a long metal club with barbed wire wrapped around it without hesitation and his grin had been manic as they ran away from their home. Ryan had been excited, but not in the adrenaline-fueled way that Brendon was. On the nights that they spent a first, tucked inside their two-person fort made of thin metal poles and reflective fabric, Ryan had softly spoken more about the idea of freedom, than fighting. 

He should've known then that he'd make an awful killjoy. But Brendon had insisted as soon as he first had the idea of leaving the city that Ryan come with him. He said that him and Sarah would need somebody who knew tech with them to help hot wire a car and hijack some BLI weapons. Ryan had thought that Brendon was just saying things to say them at first, until he had shown up one night in Ryan's home late past curfew with that same barely-sane grin and two bags slung over his shoulder. He had given Ryan a kiss on the cheek as he pulled the boy from bed excitedly and whispered about freedom. Ryan's heart had been beating a mile a minute of course. Because going off their meds was offense enough to BLI, and trying to escape on top of that? The plan was insane, but of course Ryan had followed Brendon back out the window. 

Sarah was the first to go. As soon as the escort Brendon had found to take them out of the city was ready to take her separate path, Sarah had grabbed her bag and smiled apologetically before going with the other woman. It was a smart move, and it wasn't necessarily selfish. She would still be helping the Killjoy cause by learning how to get more rebels out of the city. But she had left Brendon heartbroken and their team with a third of it's water supply gone. 

They had recovered eventually though. Tracking through the desert slowly but surely towards the vague directions to the Killjoy camp they had been given. It was about then that they were caught. 

It was a BLI sandsweeper. He had spotted the pair of them in their matching white coats and despite their efforts to get away, there was nowhere to hide in the zone. Ryan had been screaming and running just behind Brendon as he felt an impossibly strong arm wrap around his waist. Ripping him out of his run and on top of the BLI bike in what seemed like seconds. He wasn't sure what happened to Brendon, and the fantasy of the other boy surviving seemed too hopeful for this world, but hope was one of Ryan's main flaws. 

Dallon and Breezy had swept into the BLI desert camp too late for his voice, but early enough for his life. They were zone-runners with phasers set on blast and small, silver grenades that could take out a whole tent of officers at once. It had been Breezy that spotted Ryan from his place handcuffed to the table before she fired a grenade at his tent. She had scrambled down the desert slope as Dallon screamed at her to get back, but she had shook her head and grabbed Ryan from the table with a brief glance to the line of blood wrapped around his throat. He had been practically unconscious, dehydrated, and in more pain than he'd ever experienced in his life, but Breezy had tugged him along till the were hidden in a small shack that the two other had inhabited at the time. 

Days later, once he had rested, they gave him a spare tool belt and a set of Breezy's grenades and a small plastic bottle of water before sending Ryan on his way, this time with new directions, to the camp. Breezy seemed apologetic, but Ryan had understood. It's no small feat to take on a new member to your team when supplies and time are limited. He couldn't help the sinking in his heart he had felt as soon as the shack was out of his line of vision. He was completely alone then, with no idea as to if Brendon was alive or if he'd ever see him again.

It was probably allowing himself to get lost in that grief that did him in. If he hadn't gotten distracted, he wouldn't have gotten lost deep in the zone. His throat had eventually become the texture of cardboard and his legs felt as if there were rods pocking through him. He had read about people in the zones becoming rose-dust for the sand. People who weren't ready to take on the lifestyle, who were too stupid to take care of themselves.

The Killjoys were in all definitions,a saving grace. 

Even as Ryan watched them from the backseat of the Trans AM, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Even though it wasn't a permanent fix, he wasn't going to die alone. 

Party Poison's eyes flashed towards him in the reflection in the mirror. A hint of playful excitement hidden behind to lines of pink paint. 

"You ready for your first run, Moonshine?"


End file.
